One Song Away
by Coopereid
Summary: Song-fic. Emily and Spencer were in a relationship before everything that happened with Ian Doyle, and now that she's alive and somewhat well in France, he's all that she can think about.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** I own nothing!

* * *

The Eiffel Tower right outside of your hotel room window should be any woman's dream, as should waking up in Paris every morning, having breakfast at a nice little bistro, and even wearing a beret, just for kicks. Emily Prentiss had a steady job and she was glad that she was even alive, considering the trauma that her body had gone through after the Ian Doyle incident. The only problem was, right now, she wasn't Emily Prentiss. Instead, she'd played a wonderful game of 'pick an identity' from the few that had been given to her by JJ, and now, she was known as Madeline Laurent. With the new identity, she left behind everything from her old life: her job at the BAU, her team, her friends, her apartment with the great view of D.C., Sergio, and the one person she'd ever truly loved her entire life.

The fact that she was in Paris, one of the most romantic cities in the world, only made it sting more. Every day, when she wasn't working, she'd sit outside of a café reading, or sit outside on her balcony, and everywhere around her were couples. There was hand holding, hugging, baby talking, and kissing, _oh_ was there kissing. It almost felt like every single one of them was mocking her, showing her exactly what she'd had before she had to leave D.C. for her own safety. She'd been in love, she had a lasting relationship, she had everything she'd ever wanted… and she had to give it up. She could only imagine what it was like for him. She'd had to fake her own death, and she couldn't help but wonder what he thought and how he'd reacted.

She could remember the start of their relationship perfectly. The day of the Doctor Barton case, everyone was tired, and everyone was worried about Hotch as they hadn't heard from him since they'd landed back in D.C. She was at Doctor Barton's with Spencer, the two of them helping him review past cases to try to find someone who would be after his son. Curiosity had finally gotten the better of her and she'd told Spencer she would go check on Hotch and come back with him. He stayed focused on his work and brushed it off, throwing himself into it twice as hard in her absence. After she'd found out what happened to Hotch, she called him, apologizing profusely for leaving him, and letting him know she'd be with him at the hospital. Once she'd found out what 'L.C.' had meant on Hotch's charts, she called Spencer to tell him. She was on the phone with him when she heard a gunshot, and her heart sunk. He wasn't responding to anything she was saying and she was panicking. She would never forgive herself if something had happened to him and she hadn't been there to help.

Immediately, she called an ambulance and police cars to go to the address and check on him, then sat in the chair in Hotch's room, burying her head in her hands. She wasn't sure what had happened, but she knew that if something did, she'd blame herself. When her phone rang a few minutes later, she immediately answered it, hoping for some answers. JJ told her that Spencer had been shot in the leg and was on the way to the hospital in an ambulance, going to surgery as soon as he got there. Relieved, she hung up and tried to put all of her focus on Hotch, but it was useless. All her mind was doing was going back to Spencer, and she wouldn't be fully relaxed until she saw with her own two eyes that he was okay.

To try to get her mind off of everything, she took to staring out a window and watching Haley and Jack be taken away by a U.S. Marshal who would take care of protecting them. JJ walked up and stood between her and Derek, informing them that he made it through surgery and would be on crutches for some time, but he knew that kicking down doors was Derek's job. She smiled to herself before requesting his room number, so she could see him for herself. Walking into the room, she saw him still hooked up to a few monitors, probably as a precaution, but it still made her worry. It only took her three steps to sink into the seat beside his bed, taking his hand and squeezing it. Ever since the incident at the religious sect, she questioned what she'd really felt for Spencer. Afterward she'd hugged him, never wanting to let go, because she'd been worried she'd lost him. That feeling of emptiness always haunted her, and she never wanted to feel it again. She licked her lips, squeezing his hand tightly, to assure him that somebody was there for him.

Spencer's eyes opened a few minutes later and he blinked a few times, registering his surroundings. She knew he had to be in a lot of pain, because of his refusal to take any narcotics and usually that meant any medicine at all. He looked around, taking in the giant brace on his knee, and finally, looking over at Emily. Before he could even get out a 'hi', she sprang out of her chair, wrapping her arms around him. He raised an eyebrow, patting her back.

"It's nice to see you, too?" he said softly.

"I'm so sorry, Spencer," she mumbled against his neck. "I'm so, so sorry that this happened."

"I'm okay," he assured her, rubbing her back. "Really, Emily, I'm fine. I'll be on crutches for a while and in the brace, as well as going through some physical therapy, but other than that I'm-"

Spencer was immediately silenced by Emily's lips against his. She reached up, running her fingers through his hair before pulling back, resting a hand on his cheek. "Don't ever scare me like that again."

"I didn't mean to-"

She put a finger to his lips. "Spencer Reid, I need you here."

"Emily-"

She cupped a hand over his mouth. "I have had far too many heart attacks in the past few hours. For once in my life, I need certainty and stability."

He moved her hand away, resting his hand on her cheek and looking her in the eyes. Hesitantly, he leaned in and kissed her softly. He then rested his forehead against hers. "I don't know if they gave me something, or if this is actually happening, but if it is? I approve."

She smirked. "It's actually happening."

After that day, she helped him get better. She would drive him to doctor's appointments and physical therapy, as well as help him around the apartment whenever he needed it. Their relationship hadn't escalated until several weeks later, before Spencer was going back to work.

"Hey, Emily?" Spencer asked, leaning against the back of his couch, his leg propped up on the table.

"What's up?" she responded, walking over and setting an ice pack on his knee. At physical therapy earlier in the day, he'd pushed himself further than he should've, and Emily saw it in his face.

He ran a hand through his hair, chewing on his cheek. "…What are we?"

She sat down beside him. "Excuse me?"

"Well, these last few weeks have been amazing. Other people on the team have taken care of me, but you've gone the extra mile, not to mention when I woke up in the hospital, you said that you needed me. I don't know if that was in reference to the team or you personally needing me, and I'd just enjoy some clarification before I go back to work tomorrow. I mean, you've taken some of your vacation time to stay with me while I'm healing, which I'm sure has been no picnic. Then, of course, there's the fact that we kiss, _a lot_."

She smirked. "Are you saying that you don't enjoy it?"

"Oh, believe me, I do. I just want to know where we stand."

She exhaled, kneading her hands. "Well, where do you think we stand?"

"I'm naïve on the concepts, considering past experiences, but I personally would like to think that this," he started, motioning between the two of them, "is an actual relationship. I mean, we watch movies together, we kiss, and I believe that means _something_."

She smiled, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "So, Spencer Reid, does that mean you're my boyfriend?"

He blushed, biting down on his lip and smirking to himself. "If you'll have me."

So their relationship started. They confided in each other for everything in life. Spencer would talk to her about what was happening with his mother, while for the first time in her life, Emily opened up to him about anything and everything that was bothering her. It seemed like, for the first time in her life, Emily finally trusted somebody with every little secret. The one thing she'd told him, and hadn't told anybody else sans a few doctors, was about his headaches. This happened the day before she'd gone to Boston. It had only been a couple of weeks, but it felt like ages. He'd told her that several doctors said he was fine, and she knew he'd have it checked as much as he could. She'd promised him she wouldn't tell anybody, and she wouldn't, because she didn't want to lose his trust. Literally, she'd taken that secret to her grave, and on the off chance that she ever did see him again, she'd still keep it.

One of many things that hurt was the fact that he couldn't be in on the secret. Their relationship hadn't been public and nobody else on the team knew what was happening, so she could see why Hotch and JJ would keep it such a secret. In their minds, the more people that knew, the more dangerous the situation could be. If only they'd known about the two of them. They could know that she would put her life in Spencer's hands, given the chance, and that he could be trusted with any secrets. She learned shortly after she joined the BAU that secrets were always safe with him, because there was nobody he would tell them to. She often wondered about what he thought and how he felt about the situation. Though she tried to get an answer from JJ when she'd seen her in Paris, she wasn't budging on telling her how the team, specifically Spencer, were coping.

When it all became too hard to think about, she'd close the door to her balcony, turn off the lights, and turn on the radio, hoping for a bit of a distraction. It didn't matter that the songs only lasted minutes, or that there was an added challenge of translating: all that mattered to her was that she had something to keep her mind off of everything that happened. Lying back on her bed, she let her eyes slip shut and sighed, wishing she could clear her mind and think about anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

_Late at night, can't go to sleep. It's just me and the radio. Every single melody is wrecking me, and I know I'm getting close to losing all control and picking up the phone._

Emily pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. She didn't bother to look at the clock, because she knew that time was dragging on, as it did most nights. The one thing she was grateful for right now was the fact that she didn't have to work the following morning, because if she did, she'd be walking around tired and in turn, completely miserable. Growing up in different time zones, she'd gotten used to adjusting easily, but something about being in Paris was just _different_. Bouncing from country to country, she was always able to be herself. There was some reinventing involved here and there so she could fit in, but she was _always_ Emily. Now, she had to be somebody else completely different and cover up everything that Emily Prentiss ever was.

As she let herself finally listen to the lyrics, she was flooded by memories. Their first date, which had been while Spencer was still on crutches, was to the movies. Spencer had wanted to go to the Smithsonian and show her _everything_, but she promised him that he'd get the chance when he could walk on his own two feet again. She had enjoyed the movie, a silent film, but her mind was nagging her that she'd never kept her promise. They'd make plans to go to the museum, but something else would always come up, and they'd actually had plans to go next month. She ran a hand through her hair, sighing. The one thing she never wanted to do to Spencer was lie to him, because for once in his life, he deserved honesty and stability, and unfortunately, that's exactly what she'd done.

Thinking of their first date had led to thinking about their first 'I love you': she blushed just thinking about it. Spencer was still on his crutches and they were walking up to his apartment, as he didn't trust the elevator in his building. She unlocked his door and stepped inside, holding it open.

"Anything I can do for you?" she asked as she watched him hobble over to the couch, propping his leg up on the table and leaning his crutches against the wall.

"I'm fine," he insisted, rubbing his knee.

"Uh huh, _right_," she muttered, walking to the kitchen and filling up an ice pack, grabbing a bottle of Tylenol and a water bottle, carrying it all to the living room. She set the ice pack on his knee and sat beside him, opening up the pill bottle and handing him two pills. "You can't fool me."

"Apparently not." He popped the pills into his mouth, taking a sip of water and closing the bottle, setting it beside him. "You know, I didn't need a ride home, I could've taken the train and done just fine."

"…The man who trips going up the stairs wanted me to let him deal with the subway? Yeah, that wasn't going to happen."

He shrugged, toying with the cap on his water bottle. "I was thinking of ordering in, if you'd like to stick around."

"Let's see… heating up leftover Chinese from before our last case, or my boyfriend treating me to dinner? Sounds like a no brainer."

He blushed, biting down on his lip to hide his smile. "The takeout menus are in the drawer next to my fridge."

When he reached for his crutches, Emily shook her head. "And what do you think you're doing?" She got up, stepping over his leg and walking to the kitchen, grabbing the menus and walking back to him, fanning them out. "Close your eyes and pick one."

He obeyed, picking one out and opening his eyes. "Well, I'm not sure how great your boyfriend is, because it looks like he's going to be extremely cheap and order you a pizza."

"So long as he orders me some pineapple pizza, I'll love him anyway," she said, patting his cheek and sitting beside him and picking up the remote.

He paused reaching for his phone, eyebrow raised. "I'm sorry, you _what_?"

"What, like pineapple pizza is so outrageous?"

He shook his head. "No, I understood that part. I'm thinking about the last part of that sentence."

She paused, thinking about what she'd said, and realizing that she'd finally said the 'l' word. "… I don't say anything I don't mean."

He smiled to himself. "Neither do I." He cupped her cheek, looking her in the eyes and smiling. "I love you too."

She exhaled, relieved, leaning in and kissing him. It was short and sweet, but just what she needed in that moment. That day was the first time she'd said she loved Spencer, and she made it a habit of reminding him any chance that she could.

She reached for a pillow, swallowing hard and pulling it against her chest, clinging to it. If there was one thing Emily Prentiss wasn't, it was a crier. She cupped a hand over her eyes, trying not to get upset, but ultimately failing. This whole situation was entirely too much for one person to handle. She lost everything when Ian Doyle had stabbed her. She didn't have her family, because even her mother couldn't be in on the secret. Her team had to mourn the loss of her and even have a funeral, even though she was alive and somewhat well. The guilt of the six people she cared for most in the world, one slightly more than the rest, having to stand there at a funeral ceremony for her, carrying her coffin and setting roses on it, saying their goodbyes. She promised herself that Ian Doyle wasn't going to take anything from her after everything involving Valhalla, but once again, he won. She buried her head in the pillow, letting her tears fall and shaking as she cried her heart out. She hated this situation, she hated everything involved, and she hated herself for not telling the team about what was really happening and more likely than not preventing this. She wanted to protect her family, but she should've realized that her family could've protected her and themselves. If it wasn't for her own naivety and stupidity, she could be back in D.C., laying back in Spencer's bed with her head against his chest, listening to his shallow breathing as he slept, as well as the occasional murmur. Instead, here she was, in the most romantic city out there, alone and upset.


	3. Chapter 3

_I'm one song away from breaking down and calling you up and each one that plays is telling me that I'm still in love. Every word in every line is singing how I feel tonight. It's all I can take. Now I'm one song away. I'm just one song away._

She squeezed her eyes shut as the song changed and she was flooded with more memories. She could reach over and turn the music off, but she just didn't have it in her. As painful as it was walking down memory lane, these thoughts were all she had to get through nights like these. With the new identity, she didn't have any friends, just casually greeted her colleagues, and didn't get to know any of her neighbors, just in case she had to take on a new identity and up and leave the next day. Though it was hard to deal with, it was something that helped.

The first holiday they'd spent together ended up being the two of them celebrating their birthdays, considering they had only been a week apart. The team was off on a case for Spencer's, and were swamped with paperwork on Emily's, but the team was promised that they would have the weekend off. Both of them had decided to meet up at Emily's apartment on Saturday to spend some much needed alone time together. Emily had given Spencer a key to her place, as she had a few more files to finish, even after slipping a few to him.

She walked into her apartment after work, tossing her car keys on the table next to the door and hanging her jacket up. "Hey, Spencer, did you order dinner?" she asked, closing the door and fastening the slide lock.

"Already taken care of."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" She turned around and saw the table made up with a bouquet of roses and dinner already set out. She smiled. "_Oh_."

"Do you like it?" he asked, pushing himself out of his chair and grabbing his cane, limping over.

She rested a hand on his cheek, kissing him softly. "I _love_ it."

He smirked. "I'm glad. I figured since the two of us had to work through our birthdays, we could have a relaxing night in."

"I like the way you think," she whispered, before kissing him again. She pulled back, looking toward the table. "What are we having?"

"I know on that last case, you wanted the team to order from a legitimate restaurant instead of a sandwich shop, because you _really_ wanted to have a good chicken parmesan with pasta, so I picked up food from your favorite restaurant."

"_God_, I love your memory." She kissed his cheek and walked over to the table, sitting down. She motioned toward a wine bottle, eyebrow raised. "And you just so happen to know my favorite wine?"

He shrugged. "What can I say? I'm just that good."

"That you are."

After they'd eaten, the two of them curled up on the couch together, watching a foreign film that Spencer had picked out. His arm was around her shoulder and she reached up, linking their fingers together, resting her head on his shoulder. The fact that her phone wasn't going to ring and ruin this at any time was extremely relieving. The only thing that mattered right now was that she could spend all of her time with him.

As soon as the movie was over, she patted his good knee, sitting up. "Cheesecake?"

He looked at her, confused. "We're celebrating our birthdays and you bought cheesecake?"

She shrugged. "Growing up, it was rare that my mother remembered my birthday, and the first year that she forgot? The housekeeper had made cheesecake. It's sort of a weird tradition I picked up. If you want a cake, I can call this bakery on the corner and go pick one up in an hour or so..."

He shook his head slightly. "It's fine. It could be another odd thing that I love about you."

She leaned over, kissing his cheek, before walking to the kitchen and making a couple of plates. "What else is there?"

"Excuse me?"

She walked over, setting the plates on the table and picking up her own, sitting beside him. "What other odd things do you love about me?"

He grabbed his plate, leaning back on the couch and picking up his fork. "It's embarrassing."

She shook her head. "I'll go first. I love the way I can say any word in the English language, and it reminds me of some statistic or fact. Those little rants are something that I love about you."

He blushed, taking a bite. "I love your passion for Kurt Vonnegut, and the fact that it was one of the first things you used to bond with the team, even though it was just Morgan."

She ran a hand through his hair. "Well, I love the fact that a 28 year old who's as attractive as you are wants anything to do with a 39 year old like me."

He tilted her chin up, giving her a kiss. "Age is a number, Emily. I'm not going to be offended by the fact that there's a bit of a gap between us."

"No, there's a bit of a gap between the numbers 9 and 11. There's an eleven year gap between you and me."

He shrugged. "And I don't care. It's taken me _this_ long to find somebody who loves and cares for me. I'm not going to let a little thing like age get in the way."

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Spencer Reid, you are easily _the_ most perfect man I've dated."

He gave her a smile. "And Emily Prentiss, you are _the_ greatest woman I've ever been with."

She clicked her tongue. "I don't know, including the Hollywood actress _and_ the hot bartender?"

"Of course."

She leaned in the last few inches, capturing his lips with hers and threading her hand in his hair.

Not only was that night their first holiday together, but it was also the first time Spencer spent the night. She pulled back a few minutes later, resting her hand on his cheek and smiling.

"It's good to know how high I rank."

"…Likewise."

"Do you still have your go-bag in the car?"

He nodded. "Yeah, haven't had the chance to do the laundry yet, so it just has some pajamas and a clean pair of clothes. Why do you ask?"

"Were you planning on going back to your place tonight, or do you not need to?" She cursed herself for it sounding so elementary.

"I don't have any pets to check on, nor do I have anything that needs immediate attention, why?"

She cleared her throat, biting down on her lip. "I was wondering if you wanted to stay here tonight with me."

"…Seriously?"

"I wasn't aware there was a way to ask that question jokingly?" she responded, eyebrow raised.

"Right, sorry."

She shook her head. "Spencer, do you want to stay the night?"

He nodded nervously. "Yes, I'd really like that."

"Great." She held out her hand. "Give me the keys to your car. You can rest your knee while I go grab your bag."

He reached in his pocket, pausing. "Shouldn't I be going to get my own bag?"

"You should be listening to me, because I saw you limping earlier coming back from the break room and don't want to cuddle someone who's in pain tonight."

"Point taken." He took out the keys, setting them in her hand.

Later that night, Emily sat up in bed with a book while Spencer was changing in the bathroom. When the bathroom door opened, she looked up to see him in his pajamas: she wouldn't admit it, but she'd wondered what Spencer wore to bed. She didn't expect to see him in a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a ratty old CalTech shirt. He limped over to the bed, setting the cane against her nightstand and sitting down beside her, fixing the blankets over himself.

"Comfortable?" Emily asked, setting her book down.

He nodded, lying back. "It's softer than my bed at home."

She moved closer, resting her head on his chest, and smiling when he wrapped an arm around her. "Good to know. Maybe after tonight, we consider making this a thing."

"…A thing?"

She shrugged. "You could spend a night here, I could spend a night at your place. What, you've never made it this far with a past girlfriend?"

"Considering all of them were long distance? Definitely not."

"Well, I'm glad I could be the first." She titled her head up, kissing his cheek. "See how you like tonight and we'll go from there."

"I like this plan."

That night had been the first of _many_ nights with each other. At first, it was at least one night a week at Emily's apartment, but as their relationship progressed, Spencer offered for Emily to stay with him. Their first time together had been not long after the arrangement started, and it was easily one of the greatest nights of Emily's life. In the past, she'd had a _lot_ of lovers, but none of them had compared to Spencer.

It was another night where Spencer finished up his case files and met Emily at her apartment. Considering they were now spending nights together, she had given him her spare key, as he did with his own. She walked into the apartment, kicking her shoes off and running a hand through her hair. Sometimes, the long days were exhausting, and she wondered how much more she could take.

"Spencer, _please_ tell me I don't have to cook tonight?" she pleaded, hanging up her keys and locking the door. "Today was a _really_ long day."

"…So, you're too tired?"

She raised an eyebrow, turning around. The walkway to her bedroom was covered in white and red rose petals and candles. Smiling to herself, she carefully tiptoed to her room, pushing the door open. She found Spencer sitting on her bed, a single rose in hand. "…Hey."

He looked up at her, smiling. "Hi."

"…Exactly how long was I still at the office?" she asked, checking her watch.

"About an hour."

She walked over, wrapping her arms around his neck. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?"

He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. "The fact that I'm in love with the most beautiful woman I've ever met, and she loves me back."

She tilted her head down, resting a hand on each cheek and kissing him softly. "What a coincidence. There's this great guy I work with who just so happens to be very attractive, and I have _very_ strong feelings for."

He blushed. "Good to know."

"Now, do you want to tell me what this is about?"

He ran his hand up her arm. "Emily, I love you, and I've never felt this way about anybody else before, and I want you to know that you're not just another woman to me. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Likewise. Now," she started, undoing his tie, "what are we going to be up to tonight?"

"That's completely up to you."

She smirked, unbuttoning his shirt, watching as it slipped off of his shoulders. "I'm ready if you are."

Surprisingly, that night wasn't awkward, nor did it feel forced or uncomfortable. It was the most loved that she'd ever felt from somebody she was in a relationship with. Unlike most other partners, Spencer was concerned with making her happy and making a good experience for her, and that's what made it her best time yet. She loved finally having a lover who wasn't self-involved, and instead, put all of his focus on what she wanted and needed out of the relationship. Afterward, she would curl up in his arms with her head against his chest, smiling as he asked her how she felt. Ever since then, the honesty in their relationship continued, and it had slowly become the greatest relationship she'd ever had.

Unfortunately, when everything involving Ian Doyle resurfaced, she'd taken to spending nights by herself, not wanting anything to happen to Spencer. Rather than telling him about it and putting him in danger, she decided that shutting him out was the best decision. She kept to herself in the office, gave short answers on cases, and would find excuses not to go through with plans when they had them. she knew it was coming off as childish, but she'd much rather be seen as immature than have to tell him the truth and make him a potential target.

One night, Spencer called her up, asking if she wanted to go see Solaris, a movie entirely in Russian. It was one of her favorite movies, and she would've liked nothing more than to see it with Spencer, but with everything that was going on, she didn't want to risk it. Instead, she said that she was just going to enjoy a night with Sergio.

She was sitting on the couch, looking through her files from the Valhalla days and sighing, wondering how all of this had gotten so screwed up, when there was a knock on her door. Reaching for her gun, she tiptoed over to the door, checking the peephole. When she saw Spencer outside, she exhaled, setting her gun on the table and unlocking the door, pulling it open and leaning against the wall.

"I thought you were seeing Solaris tonight?" she asked, crossing her arms.

He stepped into the apartment, walking past her.

"…No, come on in," she mumbled, closing the door and setting all the locks, turning to face him.

"I had two tickets to Solaris tonight. I thought it'd be a nice surprise for my girlfriend, because lately, she's been distant and I wanted her to calm down. I call my girlfriend to invite her, she dismisses me and says she's spending the night with her cat."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware I couldn't."

"Oh, you could, if Sergio was in fact, _actually_ here."

"Excuse me?"

He held up a finger before opening the door, picking up a carrier and setting it down, unzipping it. "He was staying at Garcia's apartment for the case and I just picked him up on the way home, because you didn't."

"So now you're lecturing me because I didn't get my cat from the babysitter's?" she asked, closing the door and locking it again.

He raised an eyebrow. "No, I came over here because I'm tired of my girlfriend blowing me off every time I try to make plans with her, and now I've found out she's been lying to me."

"It was _one_ thing-"

"One?" He held up a finger for each excuse. "'I can't go out tonight, I have to take Sergio to the vet', which is funny, because I took him to the vet for you a few weeks ago, and unless there's another problem with him which I doubt, he wouldn't need a vet visit. 'I can't sleepover tonight, I'm worried about a break-in in my neighborhood and need to defend my building', which is ironic, considering that you live in one of the safest neighborhoods in the state. 'You can't come over, I'm busy with paperwork', on a day where I finished the paperwork for you. It's one excuse after another, and I just don't get it, Emily."

She took a deep breath, avoiding his gaze.

They sat there quietly for a few minutes before Spencer spoke again.

"Is this over?" he asked, motioning between them. "Are we done? If we are, I think I at least deserve a reason why, because up until a few weeks ago, this was going great."

She rubbed her arms, sighing. "I don't know."

He chewed on his cheek. "You don't know? What don't you know, Emily? I know that I've been trying everything. I've taken some of your workload to make everything less stressful, I've tried helping you on cases, I've been there for you in every way possible, but all you're doing is shutting me out. After everything we've been through, I deserve something."

She swallowed, clearing her throat and looking up at him. "I don't want this to be over," she said softly, "but I don't want anything to happen to you. You need to trust me that I'm doing this for a good reason."

"…So there's a good reason for ignoring me for the past month? Because, I have to say, it doesn't feel very good, and it doesn't seem like you're doing me any favors."

She winced slightly, but she knew she deserved it for how she had been treating him. "…I'll make it up to you, tonight. Sergio and I will pack up, we'll stay at your place."

"I'm already here and you want to go back to my place?"

She shrugged. "It's been a while. Just give me five minutes to pack. Please?"

He sighed, the anger wiping away. "That's fine, but rounding up Sergio is your job."

She smiled, nodding and resting a hand on his cheek, kissing him softly. "Just give me five minutes."

"So, in female time, twenty?" he called after her. She laughed to herself, closing the door behind her.

She shut the door to her bedroom and exhaled, reaching for her go-bag and packing it. She didn't want to put Spencer in any danger, but considering the flower delivery she'd had on her doorstep, she knew that her apartment wasn't safe. A simple solution was that she'd stay with Spencer tonight and find another answer tomorrow. Once she finished packing, she put the bag over her shoulder, walking out of her room and setting the bag on the couch. She got Sergio into his carrier, zipping it shut and picking him up. Spencer reached for her bag, picking it up.

"Ready to go?"

She swallowed, nodding, following him to the front door. He paused at the table, picking up the flower and inspecting it. "This is interesting."

She eyed it and cleared her throat. "I found it in someone's garden while walking around after work," she lied yet again. "Thought it was cute so I picked one."

He spun the stem in his fingers and she held her breath, hoping it wouldn't lead to another argument. He finally set it down on the table, turning to her. "Anything else you need to get?"

She shook her head and followed him out of the apartment, going down to his car.

That night, she was up most of the time, hoping that Ian Doyle didn't somehow find his way there and do something to him. She kept her arms wrapped around Spencer's waist, keeping a grip on him and sighing, the only sound in the room was his breathing. She let herself listen to it, and it was what finally calmed her down enough to get some much needed sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

_I could turn it off or tune it out, but I'm too gone for saving now so what's the use? No matter what I try to do, I'm back and forth, I toss and turn and think of you. The later that it gets, the more I wanna give in…_

When the Ian Doyle case had come up, Emily had a horrible feeling in her gut. The way they were killing, she knew exactly who it was, but she couldn't give it away without letting the team know about her past, and thus putting them in danger. The whole case, she did her best to lay low and act oblivious, though she couldn't believe he was going through so much. She'd much rather hand herself over to him than have him killing innocent families. She had snapped at Garcia earlier in the day and felt awful about it, wishing she could go back in time and apologize and be more patient with her, as she was only trying to get her to stop stressing.

At one point she walked into the bullpen, setting her bag down on her desk and pulling off her jacket. She couldn't help but notice Spencer jump slightly when she did so and immediately apologized. "I'm sorry."

He motioned toward the BAU room. "I thought you were in there," he said, turning his attention back to his work.

"…Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm sure these victims overlap somehow. Garcia pulled their phone numbers, but so far I can't find anything."

"You just jumped," she said, toying with her fingers, before lowering her voice. "I know we haven't been very talkative lately, and I've been a little distant, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you. I'm still here."

He licked his lips, sighing. "I've been having these really intense headaches lately," he said softly, eyeing her.

She paused. She couldn't believe that with being so self concerned these past few months, she didn't catch on to the fact that Spencer was hurting. With how paranoid he was about becoming schizophrenic, so to him, headaches wouldn't just be _headaches._ "Have you seen a doctor?"

He nodded slightly. "Yeah, a few. None of them have been able to figure it out."

Her mouth hung open for a minute before she took a deep breath. "Oh… I'm sorry. Does anyone know?"

"…You."

"You know I won't tell anyone."

He nodded again, licking his lips. "I know. They'd just worry. You know, not that you're not gonna worry, but they'll just make me feel like a baby. You know?" he nervously laughed to himself before looking at his work again.

"…I do."

"How about you?"

She shrugged. "I'm good."

He glanced over at her and smiled to himself. "You've been picking your fingernails again."

She turned her hand over, looking at them. She hadn't even noticed she'd picked up the habit again, but Spencer always knew her better than she knew herself. "…Yeah."

"I thought you only did that when you were stressed. Do you need to talk about something?"

"It's just a bad habit, really, I'm fine." She hated the fact that she was constantly lying to him, but right about now, she didn't see any other choice.

He looked back at his work, raising an eyebrow. "Aha," he closed the folder, picking it up and getting out of his chair. "You coming?"

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute."

She watched as he took off up the stairs and sunk into her chair, burying her head in her hands. She couldn't believe that she'd let everything get so bad that she didn't even notice that something had been wrong with Spencer. She pinched the bridge of her nose, chewing on her cheek and sighing, wondering just how she'd be able to change everything for the better, and soon.

Before she'd made the decision to take off to Boston, she pulled Spencer aside, hoping to talk to him. Earlier in the day, she was told about him looking up footage from the Tuscan villa, which meant the team finding out exactly what she'd done in her past. She needed to give him an explanation, or at least attempt to, before all of this surfaced. While the rest of the team was in the BAU room, she grabbed Spencer's hand, pulling him into Derek's empty office and closing the door.

He raised an eyebrow. "Hello to you too?"

She moved in, kissing him softly, resting a hand on his cheek. "I love you, Spencer," she whispered. "I don't want you to ever forget that, okay?"

"Of course not, I never would."

She swallowed, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him into a hug and resting her head on his chest.

He looked at her, curious, before rubbing her back. "What's wrong?"

She sniffed, shaking her head. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing if you're upset. What's wrong?"

She wiped her eyes, sighing, before looking up at him. "I need you to promise me something."

"Of course."

She sniffed again, running a hand through her hair. "Promise me that you'll love me, no matter what?" She saw him ready to interrupt and shook her head. "This is for a good reason, I promise. I just need you to tell me that no matter what happens, and no matter what you ever find out about me, you'll still love me."

"…I promise."

She grabbed each of his cheeks, pulling him in for a kiss, putting in every bit of passion that she possibly could. When she pulled back, she patted his cheek. "I love you, Spencer," she repeated. "I always have and I always will. I promise."

"I love you, too." He checked his watch, sighing. "We need to get going to the briefing. We'll talk tonight at my place?"

She nodded slightly, swallowing and following him out. She'd just lied to him again, and hated herself for it, but after the briefing, she was planning on going to Boston and finishing this on her own.

The entire time she was gone, she had a hint of regret in the back of her mind. She wanted to make everything right and protect her team, her _family_, from being hurt. When she'd checked her phone and got the voicemail from Garcia, she couldn't help but wonder whether she'd made the right decision. Another bad feeling that filled her was the fact that the team was going to come looking for her. That meant they had dug into her past and knew exactly what she was doing here. More importantly, that meant all of them were in danger, meaning that she needed to fix this situation before any of them got here and tried finding Doyle.

Groaning to herself, Emily rolled over on her bed, reaching for her phone. She didn't care about rules or anything else. What she needed to get through this night couldn't be found at the bottom of a wine bottle, nor would she be able to distract herself with anything to pass the time. A game of online Scrabble wouldn't do anything for her right now except make her grow more and more frustrated, waiting for Cheeto Breath to make her next move. She knew Spencer's phone number by heart and took a deep breath before dialing, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. She had other identities she could take on if she blew her cover, and would be safe no matter where she went, so nothing was stopping her. Checking the clock and doing the math, she realized it was 10:00 back in D.C., and if he was home, Spencer would still be awake. If they were on a case, he'd still be at the station, but she didn't care about blowing her cover.

She froze when the phone was answered. "Hello?"

Her mouth hung open and she blinked a few times, trying to find the words to say. How exactly does somebody tell their boyfriend 'by the way, I'm not dead. I'm alive and well in Paris, I'm still madly in love with you, and I want nothing more than to come home and sleep in your arms again'?

"…Hello?" he said again. "Is anyone there?"

She knew he was checking the number and trying to figure out where exactly the phone call was coming from. She bit down on her lip, wincing to herself, before hanging up and setting the phone on the nightstand. She pressed her palms against her eyes, sliding down the headboard and finally letting herself cry. Now, the pain of being alone was really starting to sink in. Not only was she by herself here, but she'd left Spencer all alone. He'd be depressed, upset, and still quietly dealing with his headaches, not wanting to be a bother or seem like he was trying to get attention from her 'death'. The fact that she did that to him physically made her heart hurt and she buried her head in her pillow, crying until she had nothing left in her.


	5. Chapter 5

_I'm one song away. Oh, and every word in every line is singing how I feel tonight. It's all I can take. Now I'm one song away. I'm just one song away._

Because of her late night phone call, and a few more the following nights, she unfortunately had to relocate and take on a new identity. The night before she was told to change and move, she called Spencer and waited for an answer. When he did, she licked her lips, thinking to herself exactly what she wanted to say to him.

"Hello?" he asked, clearing his throat. "Hello, is anybody there?"

She gaped, trying to find the right words, but ultimately failing. She didn't know what it was about him answering the phone, but it instantly erased everything she'd wanted to say. Part of her wished that he'd let the machine get it, so she could say everything in one breath and hang up. She'd deal with the ramifications for doing something so stupid later, but she was positive that if she'd done it, he would've kept her secret.

"Listen, I know this area code is France, and judging by the country code, it's somewhere in or around Paris. If this is a spam phone call, I'd appreciate the message that I've won a free vacation and just need to give you my credit card information. If somebody is actually there, I'd enjoy hearing something that isn't heavy breathing in my ear. Now, can you say something?"

She licked her lips, hanging up and sighing. "I'm sorry," she whispered to the room. "I'm so, so sorry." She sniffed, wiping her eyes. "I'm okay. I know you think I died, but I didn't, and I'm okay, despite the fact that I spend every waking moment thinking of you. I'm so sorry that I couldn't tell you, but I'm safe, and because I'm safe, you're safe. I love you, I always have, and I always will."

She groaned loudly, throwing her phone across the room and grabbing a pillow, putting it in front of her face and screaming into it.

Now, because of her late night phone calls, she was no longer in Paris. Instead, she was now in Rome. Luckily, it was no Paris, but there still seemed to be couples _everywhere_. She'd done the tourist-y things that she hadn't done since her teen years, such as seeing the Vatican and the Colosseum, and now she was sitting in her room with a large cup of gelato. Considering the phone calls she made, the few people who knew of her identities and kept track of her were keeping tabs on her activities.

It had been three months since everything that happened in Boston, but it felt like an eternity had passed. If she were back home in D.C., right now she'd be in the bullpen, slipping a few of her case files into Spencer's pile while he got up to refill his coffee mug. When he'd get back to his desk, he would look at his pile and realize it was slightly bigger, but knowing the extra work came from Emily, he'd smirk and shake his head, sitting down at his desk and picking up a file. After work, she'd meet him at the elevator and once they got inside, she'd kiss him on the cheek and ask if they were going to her place tonight, or his. He'd pick up dinner on the way, and the two of them would sit on the couch watching an episode of Doctor Who, which he was extremely proud of himself for getting Emily into. She'd fall asleep in Spencer's arms on the couch, and as soon as the current episode would end, he'd turn off the TV, wake her up, and they'd go to bed together.

Instead of that eventful day, where she enjoyed the routine, she was finishing up her cup of gelato and throwing it away, before pulling on her pajamas and curling up on her bed. She couldn't watch anything on TV, because everything would remind her of Spencer. It didn't matter if it was a sitcom, a drama, or even a soap opera in another language. There would always be _something_ that would jog her memory and take her back to her time with him. She opted for the radio again, turned down low, just so she could have some background music and the room wasn't completely silent. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep up the charade and bounce between identities, but she could only hope that it would be over soon and she could be home again, and more importantly, be with him again, so she could be _happy_ again.

_Late at night, can't go to sleep. It's just me and the radio._

* * *

**Author's Note 2.0:** There will be a follow-up to this story about Spencer's reaction to Emily's return, just need to work through the ideas first.


End file.
